


Sugar, We're Going Down

by killjoy_assbutt



Series: killjoy_assbutt's oneshots [11]
Category: Hellraiser & Related Fandoms, Hellraiser (Movies), Henry Cavill - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Mike (Hellraiser) / reader smut, Mikey knows how to play guitar!, mike (hellraiser) smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:41:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29516853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killjoy_assbutt/pseuds/killjoy_assbutt
Summary: Summary: staying at your boyfriend’s place for the first time, you’re in for more than you bargained for. (yes, this is a reference, and yes, it will show up in the story)Pairing: Guitarist!Mikey x Reader (2nd person POV) (both are in their early 20’s, ca 20-23)⚠️Warnings⚠️: SMUT!, there is sex, protected sex (wrap it, kids!), yes talking and descriptions of condoms bc i try to keep my stuff as realistic as I can (*cries*), fingering, slight edging, light complaining about parents, teen/ young adult stuff, play-fighting, Mikey being a cheesy little shit, fluff, hickeys, me picking up writing again after major writer’s block should also be a warning in itselfNot your thing? Don’t read! There are warnings. Read them.A/N: I kinda did a lot of research for this, this is set on April 29th 2005, about 2 weeks after Sugar, We’re Going Down by Fall Out Boy came out.
Relationships: Mike (Hellraiser)/Reader, Mike (hellraiser)/you, Mikey (Hellraiser)/ You, Mikey (Hellraiser)/ reader
Series: killjoy_assbutt's oneshots [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2051982
Kudos: 5





	Sugar, We're Going Down

_April 29th, 2005_

Today’s the day. After countless dates at the mall, the local diner, your place (always with your parents downstairs in the living room, much to your annoyance), hell, even the park, today you’d be at his place. Alone. No interruptions. Only the two of you. For the whole weekend. The moment he pulled up to the curb in front of your home, your knees were shaking with excitement. So much that you were a little scared he’d notice. You couldn’t tell why you’re so nervous, and it doesn’t matter really. As soon as you’re in the passenger seat and give him a quick kiss in greeting, along with an awkward hug, (thank you whoever made the front seat of his car so small!) he placed one hand on your knee and the shaking stopped.

“My parents are not that excited. That we’re at your place. Alone,” you snort a minute into the drive, kicking the bag at your feet lightly. Mikey shoots you a quick look before focusing back on the road. “They still think you’re a bad influence, ‘a distraction from things that really matter’,” you mock your mom’s complaints, “but they say that about all my friends, really. Ugh,” you end with a frustrated sigh.

Mikey gives your knee a little squeeze. Turning your head, you see him looking at you. His face is flooded by the red-light, a sweet smile on his plump lips. _Oh, you could just melt when he looks at you like that!_

“You’re grown up, sweetcheeks. You can make your own choices. If they still want to treat you like a kid, it’s their problem,” he tells you, then focuses back on the road when the light turns green.

You nod, more to yourself, and cover his hand on your knee with yours, squeezing lightly. Still you sigh. “Yeah, but-”

“No ‘but’s,” he cuts you off, smirking to himself when his mind wanders miles off this conversation, “Your life, baby. Not theirs.”

Sighing one last time, you relax against the seat, just concentrating on your boyfriend and the way the sunset’s pink-orange glow cascades over his handsome face – somewhere between boyish and mature– ethereal. Your mom calls him a bad influence, a distraction. You call him the reason behind your smile that lasts almost 24/7, your new found source of confidence and your way to sit through even the most boring lecture, because you know he’ll pick you up after it, take you out for dinner at your local diner before making out in his car in parking lot. In short, he’s your happiness.

“What?!” Mikey’s laugh rips you out of your thoughts.

“Hm?” you hum, blinking rapidly. Only then, you notice the car is parked and Mikey’s seat belt is already unbuckled.

“You were staring, baby,” he grins at you.

“No, I wasn’t! I was thinking!” You try to sound upset, but you end up laughing.

“Sure you were,” he winks (terribly) before getting out of the car. You let out a small huff, then smile when he opens the car door for you, takes your hand and helps you out of the car. You laugh at his cheesiness, but even though it’s exaggerated and more or less a joke, you can’t help the heat creeping up your cheeks.

“You’re an idiot,” you giggle as you bend over to retrieve your bag from under your seat, then straighten up again to slam the car door shut.

“Guilty.” Mikey grins, locking the car. He takes your hand and leads you the way up to his apartment.

You must say, you’re feeling a little awkward; in the four months you’ve been dating, this is your first time at his place, and you don’t really know what to expect. Would it be like his car? Small and littered with all kinds of junk, ranging from snack packages to CD collections? Or would it be completely different?

Finally, his front door swings open, revealing a small kitchen. Again, Mikey does a cheesy, exaggerated gesture for you to go in first.

“Mi casa- fuck it, I don’t speak Spanish,” he says, stepping in after you and closing the door.

His apartment is small, the tiny kitchen on the left turns into a small living room at just the turn of your head. It’s simple. One couch, a coffee table and a TV.

“- es su casa,” you finish for him, smiling at your boyfriend, “Babe, it’s lovely. Much more mature than I expected,” you finish with a giggle.

He arches a playful brow at you. “And what’s that supposed to mean, sweetcheeks?”

“Nothing,” you sing-song, rounding your eyes and playing with your hair, innocently.

He lets the playful banter drop, giving you a sweet smile. “C’mon, shoes off, leave them by the door, and gimme your jacket.”

He takes your jacket while you toe off your shoes and drop your bag, watching him, amused as he shuffles around the small space to hang his and your jackets on the rack.

“Would milady like the grand tour?” He grins at you, making you giggle like a little schoolgirl, and you nod. Mikey takes your hand and pulls you to the middle of the room.

“So this,” he points straight ahead, “is the kitchen. And this,” he turns you around, “is the living room. The door next to the couch is the bathroom. And this,” he pulls you after him, opening the last door, “is the bedroom.”

He lets you step into the room first. It’s sparse but cozy; a bed, a dresser and a desk. No decorations either – not that you had expected any – apart from a few movie posters and… a Playboy calendar. You crook a brow at him, but he just shrugs.

“Really?” you laugh.

“It was a gift!” He grins back at you, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around your waist. “Why would I buy that? When I already have the hottest girl there is as my girlfriend?”

“You tell me,” you chuckle, but you can’t help the warmth growing in your cheeks.

He only hums before capturing your lips in his, letting them mold together. Your eyes flutter shut as you sling your arms around his neck, pulling him in. Mikey takes that as a sign to go further. He leans in even closer, one hand slipping deeper to squeeze your butt. You gasp, pressing even closer against him. You can feel the smile on his lips before he parts them and licks into your mouth.

_Oh, that tongue! Always so eager. Always so damn good. He can send your head spinning with just his tongue against yours; slow, savoring you, leaving you breathless._

And then his hands are on your hips, spinning you around and pressing your back to his front, his plump lips latched onto your neck, searching for the spot that would make you putty in his hands. Panting and whimpering softly, you open your eyes again, curiously scanning the room you’d spend the weekend in. The way he’s mapping out your neck with his lips tells you as much; you’re not leaving that bed for the next two days.

So you trail your eyes along the wall, not memorizing anything, for the most part, not even really seeing, too lost in the sensations Mikey is giving you. That is, until… your eyes land on the banged up electric guitar leaning against the wall.

“You play?!” you gasp, breaking away from him abruptly, stepping closer to the teal colored instrument.

You’re more than giddy when you turn back around to face your boyfriend. You certainly hadn’t expected him to know how to play. Sure, his fingertips are slightly calloused, but that could have whatever reason. _And oh, how they feel inside you! What he could do with them. **Fuck!**_ You have to bite back a moan at just the thought of the two of you in the backseat of his car, parked at the side of the road in the forest; usually how horror movies start, but oh so fucking hot!

“Yeah, a little,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his head.

“Can you play something? For me? Pleaseeee?” you squeal, bouncing on your feet, feeling like a little girl who was just promised some cotton candy. You see him hesitating, and round your eyes innocently. “Please, Mikey?”

“Fine. Don’t laugh,” he huffs finally, trying his best to hide a smile. Little do you know that he’s just as excited as you are to show you his talent.

He takes the guitar from its stand and plugs the amp in, turning it on. An electric buzz fills the air, heightening your anticipation as Mike sits down on the edge of the bed, while you drop down on the carpet, sitting criss cross applesauce in front of him, staring up at him in awe before he even starts playing.

Your jaw drops once he does. Fingers flying over the tabs while he strums the chords, all you can do is gape at him. You’re amazed; at a total loss for words. So much so, that it takes you a good moment to recognize which song he’s playing. Once the familiar tune registers in your mind, you feel as if you could squeal. But you decide to keep quiet, not wanting to interrupt him. _Oh god, you don’t want him to stop. Please, you beg him in your mind, please keep playing._

Shifting your gaze from Mikey’s hands to his face, you notice his concentrated expression, broken only by the soft movement of his lips. Those soft, plump lips. Is he-? He’s mouthing along to the song, too shy to sing the lyrics in front of you. But you… you could sing, but don’t. He’d stop playing, for sure. And you don’t want that. You want him to keep going. So you try your best to keep quiet.

But once he gets to the chorus, the words just burst out of you.

 _ **“We’re going down, down, in an earlier round. And sugar we’re going down swinging!”**_ you sing at the top of your lungs, like you had for the past two weeks, whenever the song played on the radio. You love those car rides with him, aimlessly driving around, listening to the radio, singing along – well, you do – until you find a secluded spot to make out, and maybe a little more. _**“I’ll be your number one with a bullet. A loaded god-complex, cock it and pull it!”**_

A little startled by your outburst, Mikey sets the guitar down, making your smile drop a tiny bit. You wish he’d keep going.

“You know how to play _**that**_?! Baby, that was… Fuck! That was amazing! And how did you learn that?! It came out like two weeks ago!” you ramble excitedly, watching him put the guitar away and turn off the amp.

“Well… you seem to like the song… so I learned it,” Mikey explains almost shyly, “For you.”

Finally allowing the squeal to escape your throat, you tackle him to the bed, kissing all over his laughing face.

“Baby, thank you so much! I love you!” you squeak out between kisses, “You’re the best!”

“Hey, hey. Tone it down a little,” Mikey chuckles in return, shuffling more onto the bed. You both know where this is headed.

He awkwardly scoots up the bed, with you on top of him, stopping when his head hits the pillow. You sit up a little, straddling him, your hands firmly planted at the sides of his head, looking down at him. _And oh, he’s a sight!_ Dark curls splayed out on the pillow below him, soft lips slightly parted and those beautiful blue eyes gleaming with admiration as he stares back at you. _Stunning_. You can feel him too, growing harder beneath you. Rolling your hips against him, you give him a mischievous smile, widening when he groans softly.

“Still want me to tone it down?” you whisper, leaning down to kiss him once again, on his lips now. He returns the kiss, eager as always, nibbling softly at your bottom lip, begging for entrance. _And who are you to deny him?_ With the sweep of his tongue in your mouth, he steals your breath and replaces it with _him_. You don’t need to breathe; you need him, more of him! It makes your head spin. And suddenly it’s the room that’s spinning.

 _No, it’s not. Not really_. But you find yourself lying on your back, pinned underneath the tall frame of your boyfriend, one forearm supporting his weight, the other hand on the side of your neck, holding you, pulling you in deeper, needing to be so close.

“Fuck no!” he pants once he breaks away, answering the question you asked what feels like ages ago– _still want me to tone it down?_. And with that, he lets his hands wander, watching your expressions change. Your lazy, dazed smile is replaced by a gasp when he squeezes your breasts roughly through your sweater. He keeps kneading them, and _fuck_ does he know what he’s doing! You could melt into a puddle underneath him then and there.

His hands wander lower, along your ribcage, and even though there is still a layer of clothing separating you, goosebumps spread all over your skin and you shiver. And then he reaches your hips. And a little lower, the top of your thighs. He squeezes them lightly, making you buck your hips. Just a bit. But enough to free the hem of your sweater, inviting his ever-searching hands to slide underneath.

Your breathing gets heavier. The calloused tips of his fingers inching up your skin leaving you breathless. _And now you know why. Now you know why his fingers feel like that. A little rough. And fuck, that’s so hot!_ Once again, he grabs your tits, holding them firmly, making you whimper quietly. He stares down to where his hands are underneath the thick fabric, a hungry look on his face. _He wants to see you._

It happens quickly. He pulls you up, one hand behind your back, supporting you, while the other nearly tears the sweater off you, tossing it to the ground. You lift your arms to help him, but barely register your own movement. When he lowers you back down, it’s with his lips smashed on yours, tongues dancing.

Too soon, he breaks away to let both of you breathe, just to steal the breath from you again with his lips on your neck, kissing and sucking on the soft skin with vampiric hunger. _He’s determined to leave his marks on you, to show your parents you’re not their little girl anymore. They call him a bad influence? He’s gonna show them. Show them he takes good care of their girl. **His** girl._

“N-no,” you mewl halfheartedly, “They’ll see.”

“And should you give a shit? No.” he gives you a shit-eating grin. You just look back at him, mortified. “Well, then I guess I’ll have to go lower,” he ends with a smirk.

 _Oh no_.

Carefully, he pulls the straps of your bra down your shoulders, exposing just enough of your breasts to him.

“Here they won’t see,” he says matter-of-factly, already slightly muffled by your skin. And fuck! He really knows what he’s doing. Alternating between soft and harder nibbles, sucking on your skin before soothing the pleasant sting with a soft kiss or lick, he leaves you a mess already, bucking your hips against his to gain some friction. _You need him. And you need him now._

He gets the message. Of course he does. But even if he didn’t, the way you whined his name didn’t leave any open-ended questions. Almost pouting, he ditches your tits for your stomach, leaving little bites here and there, but now he’s got a goal: the sweet treasure between your legs.

 _Oh, if only he knew you’ve been soaked the moment he picked up his guitar_!

After what feels like an eternity later, he finally reaches the waistband of your leggings, dipping his fingers beneath it, but not pulling down just yet. He stares up at you, writhing on his sheets, gripping onto his pillows with your eyes closed. He’d be lying if he says he doesn’t feel just the slightest bit of possessive pride. _Okay, maybe even more than just a bit. **His** girl in **his** bed. Oh fuck yes!_

When you sit up to see what he’s doing, you’re met with an almost love-drunk face smiling at you. He’s too adorable sometimes! Returning his smile with a huge one of your own, you lean down to first give the tip of his nose a little peck and then his lips. Breaking away, you take hold of the hem of his t-shirt at the back of his neck.

“We won’t need that, will we?” you purr, laughing when he hurries to fling it somewhere into his room.

“Those neither,” he grins, hooking his fingers back under the waistband of your leggings, this time pulling them down. You let yourself fall back against the pillows and lift your hips up, helping him pull the pants off you. Only to notice he’s pulling off your panties as well.

“You’re getting right to it, huh?” You crook your brow, but grin at him.

Mikey… _oh dear god, what is he doing?_ … fishes your panties from your leggings, showing off the quite big, soaked patch. “Well… apparently you don’t seem to mind, do you?”

“Not really, no,” you beam, sitting up once again, to get him out of his pants. After fumbling with the button for a moment, you’re finally able to pull them down… well as far as you can with him kneeling between your legs. A little helpless, you look up at him when you can’t get his jeans lower than mid-thigh. Giving you a quick peck to the lips, Mikey gets off the bed. Before he can push his pants all the way down, your hands are on them, sliding them down just as teasingly slow as he had done with yours. He steps out of them and climbs back onto the bed, on top of you.

“Aren’t you going to take these off?” you ask, playing with the hem of his boxers between your fingers, letting your hand glide lower, stroking him through the fabric. _He’s so warm in your hands, so ready_. But Mikey has other plans.

“Not yet, baby,” he murmurs against your lips. You’re wondering what he’s up to, but then you feel it. Those lightly roughened fingertips sliding down from your neck, down the valley of your breasts – not without giving one a generous squeeze – and down your stomach all the way down to your soft mound. You’re shivering in anticipation, goosebumps covering your skin.

“You sure? Doesn’t it hurt by no-? Mhhh.”Once again he cuts you off with his lips on yours. His mouth muffles the gasp that leaves your lungs when he lets his fingers wander lower.

“Oh you’re so wet, baby,” he murmurs against your lips, spreading your petals with two fingers, diving them into your silky warmth, “But I can get you even wetter.”

He takes you by surprise, crooking his fingers, finding that one special spot in a matter of seconds. You’re mewling, bucking your hips up against him, electric currents running up your spine.

“That’s it baby, ride my fingers,” Mikey whispers into your ear before kissing a trail down your neck. Soft kisses. A harsh contrast to his fingers inside you, stroking all the spots that make you see stars, playing you just like the guitar before. And just like the instrument, he has you singing sweet melodies.

Soon enough, he has you writhing underneath him, close to the edge of pure bliss. The fire in your core is burning, begging to erupt. But Mikey won’t let that happen, yet. _Asshole_.

He pulls his fingers from your clenching little hole, begging to be filled again. Bringing his fingers up to his face, he inspects them, while you’re glaring up at him. _You were so close, and he just- Ugh!_

“Ah yes,” he grins proudly, “Knew I could get you wetter.” He makes a show of licking your juices off his fingers. “Mhh, and you taste good.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you groan. _You need him. You need him now._ He left you hanging at the edge and with every passing second, you can feel your high slipping away. But you always knew sweet, cocky Mikey was a tease.

“Oh sweetcheeks, I’m going to.” He grins before kissing you deeply, making you taste yourself on his tongue. You melt into the kiss, even moan into his mouth, only to pull back.

“You got protection, right?” you ask, seriously, your hands on his chest, pushing him away so you can really look him in the eye. Mikey might have been your first, but you sure as hell weren’t his. You don’t want to assume anything, hell no, but you also don’t want to risk catching anything; not an STD and definitely no pregnancy.

“Yeah,” he grins proudly, “bought on the way home from our first date.”

“You’re horrible,” you chuckle, rolling your eyes.

“Well, you said you love me, so…” he shrugs and gets off the bed, walking over to his desk. You watch him opening a drawer and taking out a little foil package. With his eyes fixed on your shaking, nearly trembling body, he slowly saunters over back to the bed, waving the little package through the air.

_Oh, that cocky grin. Ugh._

“You know… if you don’t hurry, I could finish myself off in less than a minute…” you threaten playfully, growing frustrated with his behavior. _It’s hot, but_ … He teased you way too much before for you not to get impatient now.

“You wouldn’t,” Mikey almost growls as he crawls back on the bed, between your legs, caging you in.

“I might. Wanna risk it? Really?” you purr.

He dips his head down, your noses almost touching. “You wouldn’t,” he whispers again, before smashing his lips onto yours. You wrap your arms around his neck, kissing back eagerly, pulling him in closer. _Ever closer_. And then… you stop.

He looks down at you, confused and maybe slightly alarmed, when you push him back a little, but that look quickly fades when you reach one hand behind your back.

“We should probably…” you pant lightly, unclasping your bra. You’ve rarely seen Mikey move that quickly. In nearly the blink of an eye – well, maybe a little longer – he pulls down his boxers and tears open the condom package. You watch as he pumps himself a few times, before rolling the silicone down his shaft.

“Ready, baby?” he grins, leaning down over you, one arm bracing his weight next to your head, while he uses the other to guide himself to your folds.

You gasp when you feel the head of his cock swipe through your petals, all the way up to your clit. It makes you buck your hips and glare at him. You’ve had enough of his teasing. Still, he does it again, with just a little more pressure this time, opening you up further for him. And then, with the third stroke, finally he positions himself and gives you a look to check in with you again. You nod.

That’s all he needs to finally push in. He enters you slowly, making you feel every inch, every vein and ridge. The stretch still stings. It would take you some more time to get used to him. _But oh fuck does he feel good!_

Your drawn out moan turns into a small whine when he bottoms out. He stays there for a moment, letting you adjust to him.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he whispers between the soft kisses he dusts all over your face. Once he has covered every inch of your face, he leans his forehead against yours, breathing with you to help you relax. You put your hands on his cheeks, smiling to yourself.

_How did you get so lucky? Who would have thought the tall handsome dork with the fuckboy reputation would be the sweetest, most caring and attentive boyfriend ever? Sure, he still mostly has boobs on his brain, but besides that… it’s only you._

“You can move now, baby. I’m ok,” you murmur after a good minute, slipping your hands from his face to his shoulders, clinging to him.

He starts. Slow, deep. Just grinding his hips into yours, watching every little twist of your face. He pulls out, to push right back in. Not fast. Not hard. But enough to pull a sweet gasp from your lips. So he does it again. Another gasp. A little harder. You dig your nails into his shoulders. It’s beginning to feel addictive. The even withdrawal and surge, like the tide. Both of you moving in sync. Pulling back, meeting in the middle, pulling back, meeting again. It’s indescribable. A dance of bodies and souls.

You’re both sweaty. Hair sticking onto each of your foreheads. You can’t tell how long you’ve been doing this. And you don’t care. This feels eternal.

Soon enough, he has you moaning. Incoherent words among profanities and his name, nickname and whatnot. You are reduced to a babbling mess. The pressure in your guts begins to grow and you find yourself bucking your hips more rapidly.

“More,” you gasp out between heavy breaths, “Please, baby. Harder.”

Mikey doesn’t need to think twice. He’s been waiting for this. For you to tell him what you want. He shifts, planting one hand firmly into the mattress next to your ribs, the other holding your hip. _You’re gonna take him now. He’s gonna give you what you asked for, and you’re gonna take it_.

With hooded eyes, you watch him, how he moves. Gradually speeding up, you feel him in your soul, you can hear the bed creaking quietly with every of his thrusts.

“Oh, baby,” you moan, still holding onto him, your nails digging into his flesh. He winces, slightly, and picks up his speed even more. “Fuck! Yes!”

You’re answered with a grunt as he focuses on keeping up the pace. The flame in your belly licks up your spine, igniting your whole being. You pull him down to you a little, and crane your neck to meet his lips in an urgent kiss.

Mikey drops to his forearm, sneaking his hand up until it holds your head in a gentle grasp. Doing the same, you pull him closer by the back of his neck.

What he built up in speed is lost again, but he is still thrusting hard, passionate, pulling gasp after whimper after gasp from your lips, swallowing them and replacing them with his own moans.

 _It’s perfect_.

“Baby, you’re being such a good girl,” he groans, “You feel so fucking good. So good, baby.”

You want to answer that _oh fuck you feel the same about him_! But all you can do is gasp once more. With feather light touches, he slides his hand from your hip to where you two are connected, a little higher up, softly touching your – _ooohhhh_ – your clit. You buck your hips up, only for him to gently push down on your mound, wordlessly telling you to stay still. And you do. You relax back against the bed, letting Mikey do whatever he wants to you. _He owns you. You’re his._

So you let him do what he does, your moans getting higher in pitch with every push of his hips, perfectly timed with each stroke on your clit. By now, the pressure in your gut is nearly unbearable. _You can’t take it much longer. As good as this feels, as long as you want it to last, you’re close. So so very close._

“Mikey-” you want to tell him, but he interrupts you, cutting you off with a deep kiss.

“I know, baby. Do it.” He starts rubbing your clit faster. “Do it, baby. Cum for me. Be a good girl and cum for me.”

_Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh fuck!_

The hot coil in your gut twists tighter and tighter, your muscles growing stiff as you cling onto Mikey for dear life, nails biting into his skin, but that only seems to spur him on. Moans rising higher in pitch and volume, you’re seconds away from bliss.

“That’s it, baby. Cum for me, good girl,” you hear Mikey’s words through the veil of euphoria, the last push, sending you over the edge.

“Baby, ah-!” you mewl when the sweet rapture takes you. Your vision goes white from the intensity of your high. You’re flying, floating, warm all over. It’s amazing. The best feeling. You never want to feel anything else.

Slowly, this feeling begins to fade. You open your eyes to see Mikey watching you, the way your face changes with your high. It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He had slowed down his pace during your fall. He knows you’d be sensitive. While you’re lying here, underneath him, he waits for you to catch your breath to give him your okay, to now chase his own high.

Panting, you nod up at him, and that’s all it takes, kissing you, so sweet and so deep, he drives into you, harder and faster. Just a few thrusts until his movements start to falter. You pull back carefully, gently guiding his head next to yours, so he could focus entirely on his own rapture. Almost absentmindedly, you let your fingertips circle on the back of his head, softly, like petting a puppy.

“That’s it,” you coo into his ear, placing a soft kiss just below it, “That’s it. Cum for me,” you repeat what he said to you, “Cum for me, my good boy. That’s i- Oh!”

Encouraged by your words, he pushed in as deep into you as he could, hips stuttering, sweet, whiney little whimpers escaping from his lips, muffled slightly by the skin of your neck. You can feel his breath, hot and rapid against your skin, little whimpers still coming from him. He drops his weight on you, his arms snaking around you, holding you close to him.

“Baby,” he mutters against your collar bone, “that was amazing.”

“Hmm,” you hum, still dazed and blissed out.

A minute passes where you’re just basking in the last remnants of your high and the warmth and presence of each other, before you perk up.

“Mikey?” you whisper only to be answered with a sleepy hum. “Baby, the condom. You need to…”

You don’t have to finish the sentence. He lifts himself up, one hand securely on the silicone as he slowly pulls out. You both wince slightly at the loss of contact. _It feels so good to be connected like that_. Nevertheless, you can’t stay like that forever, even though you wish you could.

Mikey gets off the bed and sits at the edge, carefully slipping off the condom and tying it. When he starts towards the door, you’re hot on his heels.

“I need to pee,” you explain. _Oh, that boy seems to know a lot about girls, but not everything…_ judging by the surprised look he gives you.

Together you make your way over to the bathroom. While you… do your business, Mikey throws away the condom, standing in the doorway a little awkwardly, wanting to let you have your privacy, but needing to be close to you.

“So,” he drags out the word, “What do you want to do now? We could cuddle?” he comes back into the room, hugging you around the waist while you wash your hands. “We could cook, or we could order something?”

“Hm,” you hum thinking, stepping away from the sink, so he can wash his hands.

“Can we order something? I’m too lazy to cook now,” you chuckle, watching him as he dries off his hands.

“Sure.”

Both of you go back to the bedroom, putting on some clothes. You settle for Mikey’s t-shirt and a fresh pair of panties. _Oh the look he gives you_. It has the heat creeping up your cheeks again.

Mikey calls to make the order while you lay the table. Then you two settle down on the couch, cuddling and watching TV while you wait. When the food comes, you eat, talking and joking around. _It feels right_. Just you and him, in this tiny apartment. _Together_.

Once you’re done, you go straight to bed. Mikey has you climb in first. _So you wouldn’t fall out of bed in the middle of the night,_ he claims. So you lie there and wait for him to join you, the exhaustion of your… activities catching up with you. You close your eyes, ready to doze off, when you feel a weight on your chest, an arm draped over your stomach. You take his hand, interlocking his fingers with yours, while your other hand gently rests on his head, fingers tangling in his beautiful curls, you softly scratch his scalp. Mikey sighs quietly, and you smile to yourself.

“Aww, sweet puppy,” you coo, playing with his curls as his head rests on your chest. “Good night.”

“Good night, baby,” he whispers, tightening his arm around your waist, needing you to be closer, “Love you.”

“Love you too, little puppy.”


End file.
